


Of Goodbyes and I Love You's

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Character Study, Cute?, Hurt No Comfort, I am so sorry, I promise its good though, I tried to write fluff, M/M, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 13:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Stephen watches the rain and contemplates this fragile little thing that had bloomed between him and Tony.





	Of Goodbyes and I Love You's

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授翻】Of Goodbyes and I Love You's](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16780765) by [Clover_cherik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clover_cherik/pseuds/Clover_cherik)



> I AM SO SORRY! I know some people wanted fluff and believe me I did too. I tried and tried but my muse would not have it. Please try to enjoy anyway? Its one of my favourites so far :)

   Stephen Strange was seated comfortably in an oversized armchair, eyes starring intently out the rain streaked window, a warm cup of tea in his hands, filling his nose with its soothing aroma. Rain had always left him with a sense of calm, he used to spend entire evenings just watching as it swept away the dirt and dust, breathing in the fresh air of a sanitized world, enjoying the chill on his arms and face promising life.

   It was a moment, a still one in the chaos of being a doctor that used to ground him. It was in those little havens that he could calm his overactive mind and focus on feeling. He used to reflect constantly, letting each cool breeze change his mind on a whim, he felt so much in those times, had loved strongly, had hurt badly. When the rain would stop, so would the moment, the quiet that he yearned for and he was back in his life, already looking ahead to the next operation, the next project.

   Stephen was now embracing it again. He hadn’t bothered to engage like this in a very long time, since the accident. He had been too overwhelmed, to desperate to stand the whirring of his heart and mind. Kamar-Taj of course offered a different kind of solace, but this was different then meditation, a personal experience from the time he was a young child. His mother used to sit on the porch with him in silence, just watching and saying nothing. It was his favourite memory.

   It seemed only right that he would fall back into this habit now. His life slowly settling itself in ways he had never dared to imagine. Though if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t likely to last long, his heart having fallen into an ancient trap. Behind Stephen was the large four poster bed found in every bedroom of the Sanctuary and curled up in its covers in only boxers and a tank-top was the one and only Tony Stark.

   His face was peaceful, a rare prize as he breathed deeply, steadily as one does in a sound, content sleep. He was currently squeezing Stephen’s pillow where it had been abandoned an hour before. Every time his eyes were drawn to him from the window he couldn’t help the warmth that bloomed in his chest, the smile that threaten to break through his stoicism.

   He loved the man and that was the shocking revelation the rain offered him tonight, one that had left him with a sudden need to make space between them, to part the comfortable warmth of the bed for his little haven on his own, but still in sight, always in sight. It wasn’t as though it came upon him all of a sudden, for weeks now this thing they had been doing had picked at Stephen’s heart, threatening. For Tony’s part his actions leaving nearly no other option available as they fell into each other’s worlds in a strange seamless way that surprised them both, but still they continued on.

   It began after the war, questions, so many questions. Tears of course and comfort, support until finally, just a presence. As days went on they spoke often, Tony jokingly asking for him to join the Avengers, Stephen steadfastly refusing. Eventually, the discussions turned casual, their time spent more willingly, schedules being memorized, calls late at night, check-ins post battle. It had been fast, too fast for Stephen to keep track, to guard the most precious thing he owns. In retrospect he thinks it is entirely possible Tony planned it that way.

   The thought caused a warm, sad ache in his chest. Yes, things had moved quickly and when they shifted to spontaneous dinners he had reciprocated thinking only of common curtesy, when Tony began to share his trauma he responded with his own out of sympathy, when Tony kissed him for the first time, Stephen had been selfish and kissed him back to satisfy his own burning desire, believing that it was entirely physical, that Tony couldn’t want _him_.

   The thought hadn’t been born out of insecurity, only practicality. He was a Master of the Mystic Arts, his duties binding him to this very Sanctum for the majority of his life, his duties suggesting the possibility of a short one. In Tony’s case, he was the Ironman, a billionaire and a man who couldn’t hide from the media. His profession left him with responsibilities that could conflict with him one day, his life an open affair to the public that his own life of necessary secrecy could not withstand.

   No, Tony couldn’t be doing this for him because they were fundamentally incompatible, their worlds promising nothing but distraction, dissidence, and perhaps heartbreak. Why then had he found himself waking in the middle of the night for the past three days in Tony’s bed, sometimes holding the other man close, others being held. He knew the dangers that led down this path, and it terrified him, yet still here they were.

   He found mornings with conviction that this needed to end, that space needed to be installed between them, that in time they would fall into a different kind of pattern that promised a more concrete future. Those same mornings, however, met him with a disheveled Tony, a warm smile, a gentle kiss, sometimes a sarcastic remark about his breath, and he would forget, would allow himself another day.

   Again, he thinks Tony plans it this way, the man always being there when they go to sleep, when they wake up. He knows he never used to sleep on such a consistent schedule, preferring to tinker in his workshop to sooth himself, which means he knows on some level. He knows this thing between them is incredibly fragile, one wrong moment sending it shattering to pieces around them. The way Tony looks at him sometimes, when he thinks he doesn’t know suggests that he is afraid of that very thing, his eyes always assessing Stephen’s reactions. Part of him hates the fact, wishes, that the man would just take the step that would send them spinning out of control that would free them both from this frightening, unsure balance, simply bring them to where they would eventually end up.

   But then, why doesn’t he do it himself? Stephen sighed quietly sipping his tea, watching as the rain beat down just a little harder in a steady rhythm that could almost put him to sleep. He didn’t do it because Tony was a genius, he had wormed his way into Stephen’s life with a vibrancy and challenge that tested him in the ways he so dearly missed. He had been subtle and loving, made no promises and forced none on himself, had let this grow as naturally as a budding flower, until it was planted firmly in Stephen’s heart and soul, tiny and vulnerable in this form but with ever expanding roots.

   Yes, this was most certainly love and for as good as it felt, as much as it made his heart beat faster, it also left him here, sitting in his haven. For the moment, he couldn’t stand to leave this chair, leave the calming rain because to join Tony in their bed was leaving a strange sense of unease so very akin to fear in him. He was a man of the work and his work required all his attention, he did not know what dangers lurked within love for a man whose job was to monitor the world so completely.

   Titan was the perfect example, had he seen another future, one perhaps where it was Tony that died, permanently, would he have been able to do it? The answer should be simple, require no thought, but every choice becomes more complicated when your own heart is threatened. How does he justify opening his heart then? When so much is riding on a man’s ability to be neutral, without a tainted mind.

   This was dangerous, the only conclusion that he could come too. Dangerous because even as he acknowledges this horrible possibility everything inside him told him not to let it go. To embrace it, has he not earned it? Had he not done enough? It was already making him selfish, and by god did he want to be selfish.

   But, even without the eye to see, it was for those very reasons this would not last. Eventually, Tony would do something, ask of him something that he could not abide, that violates the Ancient Laws. It would be with a pure heart, but he also would not understand. Or Tony might grow tired of never having a semblance of normalcy, the thing he most treasured while still with Pepper. Their relationship could never advance beyond what it was now or risk exposing the world of Kamar-Taj to the public, never living in the same building with one another.

   Stephen himself finds this to be a most terrible torture, to monitor his every move, to constantly know how this is destined to come tumbling down. A noise of rustling drew his attention once again to the bed where Tony had shift over completely to Stephen’s side of the bed, a hand falling off the side as though reaching out to him.

   He finds himself starring at Tony’s face where it is now crinkled in concern, his peaceful sleep being disturbed, his musing had solidified in his mind where this path leads, but he wants to try saying it just once. He needs to hear the words in his own voice, because as long as they stayed trapped on loop in his head it wasn’t real.

   “I love you.” It was whispered, moisture coming unbidden to his eyes as he forced the words out. Tony’s hand seemed to twitch but it was clearly just a nerve, heart beating a mile a minute, he swallowed painfully and tried again.

   “I love you, Tony Stark, and I am so sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Peaks out from behind table* good? bad? horrible? Let me know :)


End file.
